Found
by 11000719
Summary: A little story of the aftermath of Rowan finding Aelin. All characters belong to Saran J Maas!
1. Chapter 1

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Wouldn't take his eyes off her.

He'd kept a vigil by her bedside for the past four days, monitoring her every breath, eyes skimming over every inch of the body that he had traced countless times with his eyes, his hands, his lips.

She'd been unconscious for four days, ever since they had found her chained in that iron coffin, drastically thin and pale, a shadow of the flame she used the be. His knees had gone from under him when he saw her, finally saw her, after searching for so many months. She was lying in a pool of blood, both fresh and dry, shadows round her shut eyes, her face gaunt and pallid but she was alive.

He'd found her. He'd found her. He'd found her.

He'd scooped her up, one arm cradling her knees, the other sitting under her neck, making sure to stay clear of her ravaged back and he'd ran. Ran faster than he ever had before, his fae speed propelling him through the forests and mountains of Wendlyn, down, down, down to the coast, his cadre keeping formation around them, guarding the prince and his queen.

His breath was ravaging his throat by the time the ship finally came into view. He didn't hesitate, simply ran on board, past a sobbing Elide, who could not tear her eyes away from the sleeping princess, down to the cabin below, kicking the door shut behind him and using his wind, the near final dregs of his power, to slide the lock into place.

For a moment, he'd simply stood there, staring at the woman he cradled against his chest, the woman who held his heart.

His Fireheart.

He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that after so long, after all this time, they'd ended up back here, the most obvious of places, that he had decided not to search sooner for that very reason. He couldn't believe his own foolishness.

With his emotions threatening to take over, he moved, gently laying her on the bed, face down, and saw the extent of her ruined back for the first time. Bile rose in his throat.

Her back was a patchwork of scars, both old and new, some crusted with dried blood, others fresh and still bleeding, as though she'd been whipped fairly recently. Some were shallow and would heal on their own.

Others went down to the bone.

Her tattoo was in ruins, speckles of black visible here and there between the lines that decorated her back.

He swallowed thickly, clamping down on the tears that were threatening to spill. He reached out a hand, desperate to touch her, but simply hovered it over her, terrified his touch would cause her more hurt and pain. But he had to heal her, had to help in any way he could, to ease the physical pain at least. He lightly stroked a piece of her hair, dull and lank, from her face where it was turned towards him, fingers shaking as he did, before pulling back.

Taking a deep breath and reaching down deep into his remaining magic, he began.

It was a slow process, one that would take time. He didn't let himself think how much longer any other sort of healing would take. He watched as her skin slowly began to knit together, as bone became less and less visible, as the flowing blood began to dry up, until only raised, red skin remained, criss crossing her back. He knew he could make them disappear too if he wished, but he also knew Aelin, and he knew, that she would not want him to rid her of her scars. He knew she would wear them with pride, like she did with each and every one gracing her beautiful body, to serve as a reminder of what she had endured for Terrasen. Of what she had overcome and defeated and survived.

When his work was finally done, he sat back, utterly drained, slouching in a chair next to the bed. He kept his eyes on her face, only now noticing that the ship beneath them had begun to rock and sway, a sure sign that they had left Wendlyn behind, heading to Adarlan and whatever hell awaited them there.

He needed sleep, needed to restore his magic, just in case he needed to defend her, incase Maeve decided to follow them. She had not been there when they had found Aelin, something he was both grateful and disappointed for. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to finish her. Slowly. But he also wanted to give Aelin the pleasure, for everything Maeve had done to her. And he knew Aelin would enjoy every moment of it. As much as he wanted it, it was not his kill to make.

The movement of the ship lulled him, his eyes dropping and he snapped upright, unwilling to take his eyes off her for a second. He needed to be alert, regardless of the fact that any potential intruder not only had to find them in the middle of the ocean, but that they would also have to go through Lorcan, Gavriel, and no doubt Fenrys after a few days rest, before they even reached this door.

It was thanks to Fenrys that they had got her out. A swipe at his iron chains from Lorcan and he was on Cairn before anyone knew what was happening. Tearing him to shreds, his screams echoing over the rest of the commotion. Rowan had wanted the kill, but in that moment, he only had eyes for his Queen. Fenrys had mostly been fine, battered and bruised and his magic completely drained from months of being in iron chains, unable to heal himself. He hadn't been able to shift when they found him, having instead to run to the coast in animal form. It would likely take a few days before he was able to shift again.

Rowan ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up. He sat back, legs sprawled in front of him, arm draping over the edge of the chair. His eyes once again focused on her face, on the gaunt cheeks and shadowed eyes. Never again. Never again would he let her suffer like she had. Never again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he could keep in the tears that were moments away from falling and heaved a sigh.

And so, Rowan began his vigil.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't let anyone in the cabin, his territorial fae habits showing loud and clear. Nothing and no one was getting near his mate.

Until on the fourth day, Elide sternly reminded him that if he was so against sleeping, the least he could do was eat and drink. And that Aelin wold likely need sustenance when she finally awoke.

And so he gave in, opening the door enough for the girl to slide through bearing her tray of supplies. He growled viciously at Lorcan and the lion standing in the hallway beyond and both had retreated, palms up in surrender and understanding.

He watched Elide like the hawk he was, following her round the small room, until she eventually snapped, whirling round declare that out of everyone on the ship she was the last likely person to hurt Aelin and that despite how pretty the young queen was, she was not that way inclined, before telling him in no uncertain terms to back off.

So Rowan retreated back to his chair and turned his attention back to Aelin, still sleeping soundly, her breath less shallow than it had been days before.

Elide finished moving her supplies onto the desk at the end of the room, bandages, a jug of water and two wooden cups and a pot of what smelled like steaming fish stew, and headed for the door. With a last, long look at Aelin, she slipped back out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

The room was silent once again, Aelins breathing the only occasional sound.

He knew he should eat, knew he should rest, but he couldn't relax. Not yet. Not until she woke and he knew undoubtedly that she was alive. That this wasn't some trick of the damned gods, to let him find her, only to lose her all over again.

His looked out of the porthole to his left, surveying the grey sea beyond, his thoughts drifting to those very gods and the price they were demanding for defeating Erawan. He wouldn't allow it. Could not believe that they had fought and lost and found each other only for it to mean nothing in the end.

And he knew. He knew that if the price for defeating him was Aelin's life, then his own would be short lived too. Because despite what he had promised her, despite this vow and this bond between them, he would not live without her by his side. These past months had been torture enough. He was not willing to do it again.

If Aelin sacrificed herself and faded into the afterworld, he would be going with her.

But he would find a way out of this bargain Elena had made. He would find a way.

Despite himself, his temper rose at the thought of the former Queen, at the thought of what she had so blindly agreed to. The Queen who was promised.

He took a deep breath through his nose, and closed his eyes. Counted to ten. And when he opened them again, his anger still present but somewhat depleted, he turned his head back to his love and a sob escaped his throat.

For when he turned to her, lying so still on the bed, he was met with turquoise eyes ringed with gold staring at him.

He watched as her lips parted and closed again, as her throat bobbed,as if trying to form words that would not come. It occurred to him that she needed water but he was too shocked to move. Too terrified to tear his gaze away in case this was all some dream and that when he looked back, her eyes would once again be closed.

So he just sat and stared at her.

And before he could stop them, his tears finally broke free, as she swallowed one final time and through broken and chapped lips, rasped "Rowan".


End file.
